


Dear In The Headlights

by 1989



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bullying, M/M, also this is multi-chapter but i can't find the option to say that, connor is nice for once, more like harassment but, the title is an owl city song but spelled incorrectly bc i'm cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1989/pseuds/1989
Summary: ""Breathe," Connor instructed when Evan shot him a confused look, saying it with a scoff as if his intentions were obvious.Evan examined the bag; his pride told him no, but his lungs, on the other hand...Let's just say that oxygen was currently more important to him than maintaining any sense of pride that he lacked to begin with."In which Connor helps Evan out of a panic attack that was indirectly caused by Owl City.





	Dear In The Headlights

**Author's Note:**

> -i should explain beforehand that this takes place two weeks after the start of senior year, and that connor shoved evan at the start of the second week but never saw his letter. everything else is pretty compliant to canon! 
> 
> lil warnings just in case:  
> • detailed panic attack  
> • f word  
> • self deprecation/ suicidal ideation

Evan had been sitting in the guidance office for the past five minutes trying to work up the nerve to speak.

He wasn't there for anything serious, unlike how he typically wound up in the chair of a trained professional. Nope, he wasn't here to make small talk about his crippling, persistent anxiety- he only needed a minor schedule tweak, which he had gotten ten minutes ago. Now he was just sitting there as his counselor tapped away on her keyboard.

Evan sincerely believed she forgot he was there because she was old, not because he was... well, Evan. Sure, he was laughably unmemorable and easily slipped into the sea of teenaged faces, but someone had to realize when he was sitting directly in front of them, right?

After a few more agonizing minutes, Evan was finally able to gather up the miniscule amount of courage hidden within his being, open his mouth and perform the impossible action of speaking.

"Um, can I please get a pass back to class?"

The elderly woman paused her typing and slowly turned to face Evan, reminding him all too much of the sloth from Zootopia. "Oh silly me, I completely forgot you were there!"

Niiice.

Evan hoisted himself from the seat and grabbed his blue, off-brand Jansport bag as his counselor plucked a blank slip from inside her desk. He wrung his hands together as she took an excruciatingly long amount of time to fill out his pass- honestly, how long did it take to jot down 10 letters and the time? Maybe she was procrastinating on purpose, to gawk at Evan's awkwardness a bit more and get in a couple extra laughs. He knew he probably would, were he in her position.

"Here you go, sweetheart," she finally finished, clicking the pen closed and handing Evan his pass.

"Thanks." He took the slip of green paper and murmured an obligatory have a good day before exiting her office. He smiled softly at the secretary who waved goodbye to him as he left the guidance building and stepped back into the hallways.

Evan stuck the pass into the pocket of his jacket, being ultra cautious as to not to crumble it. He had a deep fear that if his pass displayed so much as a wrinkle or folded edge that his teacher would dismiss it as invalid and force him to take a tardy. Which was ridiculous- but, then again, most of Evan's fears could be categorized as such.

The blonde stopped against a locker, pulling his backpack to his chest and grabbing his phone from the front pouch, headphones already in the jack. He quickly resumed the song that was paused and shoved the squishy buds into his ears, continuing to walk to the calming beat after shoving his small phone into his other pocket.

It was Owl City circa 2009, of course.

A cool gust of wind blew past as Evan pushed open the door leading outside, ruffling his hair and causing a shiver to cascade down his spine. Hands pushed in the pocket of his khakis, he slowly made his way down the stairs exiting out of the main building. Evan stared up at the cloudless, powder blue sky and watched a few leaves flutter from the trees as Adam Young crooned into his ears about nature and insomnia. It was... nice. Oddly calming. Evan decided to circle around the building once more before heading in to fully absorb the peaceful moment, not caring whether someone spotted him and thought he was acting suspicious, or ditching class.

Correction: Evan still very much cared if someone saw him. But the crisp summer air and birds softly chirping somewhere off in the distance calmed his nerves and convinced the teen that he wouldn't be caught walking around.

Once he had enough outdoors to last a lifetime- or, for him, about an hour- Evan navigated towards the smaller building that held his current class, immediately hanging a left to get a drink from the fountain near the entrance. A group of students were exiting the building as Evan approached, causing him to jerk his head down and force himself to fixate on the tile below. The last thing he wanted was for his surprisingly calm mood to be shaken by awkward eye contact with strangers. He vaguely heard one of them mention something about a shirt, and repeated it when he wasn't granted a response. 

Evan scurried by them and leaned down to take a sip from the fountain, while the kid continued to repeat his comment, progressively getting louder. Evan wondered for a brief moment whether he was being spoken to, but shook off the possibility. Everyone knows you don't talk to someone wearing _headphones._

When he lifted his head, however, he came face to face with shirt boy himself, scowling down at Evan with his arms crossed taut around his chest. The other three boys were huddled behind him, sporting similar expressions.

Evan tentatively pulled his earbuds out. Oh no. Was this kid seriously talking to him? He probably thought Evan was purposefully ignoring him, and that he was rude, and that- 

Of course the one time that Evan managed to convince himself that others weren't talking about him they actually  _were._

"Respond when you're fucking spoken to," the kid spat, his tone seeping with venom. Evan felt his heart sink in his chest. Why did he have to take a walk around the building? This was karma for not returning straight to class. If he would've done what he was supposed to he wouldn't have encountered this kid, and he wouldn't feel like his lungs were currently failing.

Evan wished he could pause the Earth to string together a coherent response, or to at least give him time to book it and transfer schools. "I- uh, you see, I have headphones in, and- and I didn't know you were talking, I'm. I'm sorry," he mumbled, trailing off at the end. Nice job Evan, way to stand up for yourself. They're sure to back off now.

As expected, the shirt boy didn't have much compassion; his scowl simply deepened, evolving into a full on sneer. "You're such a- I know you heard me, faggot!"

Evan flinched at the sudden shouting, backing up instinctively. What was he supposed to do? Run away? Defend himself?

"I- I didn't, I'm sorry!" Or stuttering, stuttering worked just as well.

The kid- who Evan suddenly noticed towered a head above him- began backing Evan into a corner, both literally and metaphorically. He was undeterred despite one of his friends urging him to lay off and continued to stare Evan down, his unblinking eyes boring holes into him as if he were injecting poison into his bloodstream.

_This is bad bad bad bad bad bad bad-_

"You're gonna be sorry," the taller boy practically yelled and grabbed Evan by his collar, hoisting him an inch off the ground.

"Stop it, dipshit!" Another one of the guys behind them intervened, smacking the perpetrator on the shoulder. "You want to get in trouble?"

The kid narrowed his eyes at his friend before turning back to Evan and shooting him a final death glare. He forcibly shoved Evan against the wall and let his body collapse onto the ground without a second thought. The shorter boy was too shocked to process anything as the group stalked towards the main building, shirt boy muttering a brigade of insults underneath his breath. 

And then it ended as quickly as it had begun.

Evan stared blankly at the palms of his hands, his chest too tight to take a proper breath. His head was pounding, partially from the shouting, partially from slamming it on the wall.

His first intelligible thought was  _you deserved it._

He could feel the familiar burn set in just as his vision began to blur, a hazy sheet cloaking over his sight. Evan squinted and furiously wiped at his eyes- like hell he was going to breakdown in the middle of school. For the third time this semester. Despite his resistance, however, the tears continued to well, threatening to spill faster with each passing moment.

Memories of his years in middle school started seeping into Evan's train of thought, infiltrating the barriers he had set up to protect himself against them. He was transported to the years of being sent home each day with an array of bruises across his elbows and knees, a bloody nose, the occasional black eye. Being shoved into a corner, spat on and tormented until he broke down crying. Being friendless and _hated_  and-

And- and what? He was still like that.

Evan gripped at the hem of his polo, knuckles whitening as he tightened his fingers into the fabric, trying to keep himself grounded. He needed to snap out of this before it escalated into a full fledged panic attack, but it was as if his body had gone into self defense mode. Evan felt a giant lump forming at the base of his throat, like he'd swallowed half a popsicle without chewing. His heart was visibly pounding in his chest as his breathing became more erratic, the interval between each breath becoming progressively shorter.

Within moments, Evan couldn't get a positive thought in edgewise; his mind was hounded with images of the kids who would make his life a living hell all throughout middle school, they wouldn't leave, and _god_ Jared was right, he was a pussy. One measly confrontation led to him curled up against a wall sobbing, when most people would fight back or brush it off.

_You're worthless. You could fall off the face of the Earth and not even your mother would care, because at least with you gone she could save money on therapy and medication and stop having to work overtime and she wouldn't be so exhausted all the time, fuck, you make everyone around you so exhausted._

Evan wrapped his arms around himself as he hid his head in between his knees, digging dull nails into his sides until a burning pain seared throughout his back. Evan's body shook with each sob, which were exemplified by his short, spastic gasps for air. The blonde was so lost in his own racing thoughts that he didn't register the presence of another person knelling down in front of him.

Evan faintly made out his last name being said by a male voice, but the intense ringing in his ears made most sounds hard to decipher. He slowly lifted his head and rubbed away the tears clouding his vision to reveal none other than Connor Murphy. Because the world loved to fuck with him. 

Great. He'd be sustaining two brain injuries today. 

Regardless of his expectations, however, Connor appeared... vaguely concerned?

Huh. Evan didn't know it was within Connor Murphy's abilities to feel empathy for other human beings.

The blonde wiped the water from his eyes, only succeeding in spreading the tears across his cheeks and making his skin glisten. "Wha-What?" He asked, hiccuping out the word as his breath hitched.

Connor furrowed his eyebrows and slid his messenger bag off of his shoulder in one quick motion. Opening the main compartment, he materialized a paper bag which was uncharacteristically adorned with the name Connor inside a pink Sharpie heart. The long-haired boy spilled the bags contents onto the concrete- a sandwich, granola bar, pudding and water bottle- and thrust the bag in Evan's direction.

"Breathe," he instructed when Evan shot him a confused look, saying it with a scoff as if his intentions were obvious.

Evan examined the bag; his pride told him no, but his lungs, on the other hand...

Let's just say that oxygen was currently more important to him than maintaining any sense of pride that he lacked to begin with.

Grabbing the bag from Connor, Evan positioned it over his mouth and began sucking in harshly. It reeked of ham and cheese, but he supposed it was slightly better than asphyxiation.

His breathing was still ragged as he continued to cry, but began to even out after about a dozen breaths.

In, out. In, out. Phew.

As his sobs started to dissipate, Evan could feel his body beginning to settle. Yes, his arms were still shaking like an eighty year old epileptic having an episode, and the paper bag method did nothing for his emotional state, but. At least he could take in a breath without it feeling like his last.

Even if he sort of wished it was.

Somewhere in the middle of his breathing, Connor had sat beside Evan and started to rub circles on the small of his back. Though he typically panicked more if anyone touched him during an attack, it was somewhat comforting and helped Evan to relax his muscles. 

They remained in that position for at least five minutes until Evan wasn't gasping each time he opened his mouth and the tears stopped pooling up in his eyes. 

"You're lucky I didn't eat lunch today," Connor mentioned once Evan pulled the bag away from his face. A vague smirk was present on his face, and Evan felt a laugh bubble up in his chest at the remark.

...Wait just a goddamned second.

Was this the twilight zone or something? Was the elusive "Crazy" Connor Murphy, who threw printers at teachers and shoved boys with arm injuries, legitimately sitting with him as he calmed down from a panic attack?

Evan drew his knees closer to himself than they previously were. "Wh... Why are you b-being nice to me?"

A flash of remorse was present on Connor's face, visible for a brief moment before he cast his gaze downwards. Sighing, he plucked a handful of grass from beneath them and twisted the thin plants around his fingers until they ripped. "I'm sorry for the other day," he began, opening his hand and allowing the dead blades to flutter back onto the ground. "I get really fucking pissed over stupid things. Especially that friend of yours."

Evan winced. He sometimes wished that Jared would take his words into account and realize the effect they could have on others. 

"I didn't mean to lash out on you. You were just... in the wrong place at the wrong time." Connor paused for a second. "Shit, that sounded awful," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"No, no, I-" Evan tried, having no idea how he planned on finishing his sentence. How did one respond to one of the most angry, potentially dangerous students in school suddenly apologizing to them? This kind of thing didn't exactly happen outside of movies.

Who was he kidding? Even in fiction, no one would buy that someone as angry and destructive as Connor Murphy would be kind towards someone as quiet and useless as Evan Hansen.

He inhaled. "I accept your apology," he said in one breath without tripping over his words. Woah. That was certainly new.

Connor lifted his head, a look plastered on his face that Evan thought expressed his gratitude without directly thanking him.

"I've wanted to apologize to you since it happened, but I don't know how I would've found you," Connor admitted, reaching for the sandwich lying on the concrete.

"G-Good thing I freaked out then, I guess."

The boy paused just as he was about to take a bite of his lunch. A frown spread across as his face, causing all his features to droop. "Why did you anyways?"

It was Evan's turn to look away, now; he tore away from Connor's gaze and stared at the hem of his shirt while he fiddled with a loose string, tying it around his index until his finger stained white. He wondered how long it would take someone to cut off all of their circulation by doing that.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Connor mentioned after picking up on the behaviour. Evan breathed a sigh of relief, and wished with every fiber of his being that those words had come from the mouth of his pushy, overbearing therapist.

"I don't," Evan admitted.

"Then don't." Connor flicked his granola bar in Evan's direction.

Evan looked at the snack for a few moments before slowly accepting it.

Food was a nice peace treaty.

  
The pair sat in comfortable silence for the remainder of the period, despite the voice in Evan's head that demanded he get to class. Instead of seventh period algebra, he needed this: a pseudo mental-break of sorts. A chance to sit beside someone who seemed to at least marginally understand what he went through day in and out. 

A... friend? Is that what those things were called?

He would hardly consider Connor Murphy to be his friend. Then again, he didn't consider anyone besides Jared to be his friend, and he doubted those feelings were mutual on an hourly basis.

"The bell's about to ring," Evan mentioned quietly, his voice hoarse from little use. He scooped up their wrappers and deposited them in a nearby recycling bin and returned to find Connor looking at him expectantly, a Sharpie in hand.

"Do you mind if I, uh." Connor motioned to the cast on Evan's arm. Evan glanced down at his injury.

"Huh- oh, uh, no! I mean, no as in I don't mind, not no you can't sign it."

"I got it," Connor mumbled, a barely there smile gracing his face. He yanked Evan down to his level a bit too harshly, eliciting a yelp from the shorter boy, which he promptly ignored. Connor uncapped the marker and scrawled his six letters across Evan's cast in big, bold letters, John Hancock style.

Above his cast, Connor also jotted ten additional characters.

"If you ever want to, yanno. Talk, or whatever," he explained bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck as Evan examined the numbers on his bare arm. "If anything like this happens again."

Evan felt his lips curling upwards into a happier expression. In all honesty, it was the first time he'd truly smiled in a bit. "Th-thanks," he stammered out.

The bell rang within the next moment, as Evan had predicted. He quickly gathered his things and shoved his phone into the front pouch of his bag. "I'll see you around?"

Connor offered him no verbal response, simply slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and throwing a mock salute towards Evan before turning on his heels and heading in the opposite direction. Evan returned the gesture with a meek wave, adjusting his backpack around his shoulders and beginning his trek across the school as hordes of students filed out from the building before him.

Evan stared at the large letters on his cast as his walked to eighth period. A small smile settled on his face.

Maybe this year wouldn't be _absolute_  shit.

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably so unbelievable/ooc and i know that pretty much no one in high school acts like shirt boy, but just pretend he's a total dick asjk. i have some rough ideas for where i want to go with this, so please lmk if you're interested in seeing more!


End file.
